She still doesn’t trust me fully,I thought as I watched Akiko head toward the maze. Not that I blamed her. I’d given her plenty of reasons not to, back when I was too immature to realize what I had right in front of me. But she had grown. Everything about her now, her confidence, her drive—it was sharper, more refined. She was still Akiko, but a version of her I had never imagined.
My father used to say I coasted through life on the back of his hard work, and he wasn’t wrong. A prominent politician in Kyoto married to a celebrated socialite, my parents were the sort of power couple that turned heads and closed deals. Wealth wasn’t just a privilege in my family but a legacy spanning generations.
But with that legacy came expectations. And my role? To carry the torch, whether I liked it or not.
For most of my life, I didn’t. My university years were an extended rebellion. Parties, women, and adventures in exotic corners of the world. Anything to avoid responsibility. And for a while, my parents indulged me, maybe thinking I’d eventually grow out of it.
Then came the ultimatum: Join my father in politics or be cut off from the money faucet.
I resented him for forcing my hand. But then fate—rather, Akiko—changed everything. Overhearing my father talk about Chef Sakamoto’s program and mention her name sparked something in me. I hadn’t thought about Akiko in years, but the memories came flooding back.
I couldn’t resist.
That’s how I found myself in my father’s study, pitching the most absurd idea of my life. “I want to be a chef,” I told him. He laughed, assuming it was another one of my excuses to avoid the real world.
“I’ve given it a lot of thought. It’s what I want to do,” I insisted, staring him down. It was true; I had. In fact, I’d done my homework on Sakamoto and his secret program.
My father didn’t hide his disappointment, but I knew how to play him. I appealed to his pride. I promised him I’d prove myself or join him in the office within six months, no questions asked. He asked whether I truly knew what I was getting myself into, whether I was aware of the program that Chef Sakamoto ran. I told him I wouldn’t waste his time if I didn’t. “If you get into trouble there, I may not be able to help you,” he said.
I admit, hearing those words come out of his mouth gave me pause. My entire life, I’d done whatever I wanted, knowing my father would always bail me out of any trouble I got into. Now we were at a crossroads. I could take the safe, comfortable route and join him. Or I could move on, knowing I had no safety net.
“I understand,” I told him. “I’m ready to face whatever happens, alone.”
Begrudgingly, he made the call. Promises were exchanged, strings were pulled, and just like that, I was an apprentice.
While my reasons for being here had nothing to do with culinary ambition, Akiko didn’t have to know the truth, not yet. And if that meant betraying her trust one last time, so be it.
The garden was quiet now, the scent of jasmine mingling with the dampness of the earth. As I started back toward the dorms, the shadows around me felt heavier, darker than they should have under the moonlight. Was it my imagination, or had this place started to wear on me too?
Earlier, I’d played my hand better than I expected. Akiko might have put on a strong front, but I knew her better than she realized. She wanted to believe me, even if she wouldn’t admit it. The cracks were there; I just had to exploit them.
The rest of the competition was a chessboard in my mind. Taka was reckless and easily provoked into making mistakes. Dori followed him blindly, a predictable pawn. But Kenji? Kenji was the wild card. His blind devotion to Akiko was both a strength and a liability. But that had to end. Severing their bond wouldn’t just isolate him. It would leave Akiko vulnerable. And more reliant on me.
Failure wasn’t an option. If she faltered, my plan would crumble. Trust wasn’t necessary; survival was a must, even if I became the one person she would never ever forgive.
CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE
AKIKO
I was still shaken by Kenji’s behavior. His insistence on controlling me went beyond caring for a friend; it verged on maniacal.
My mind raced through all the arguments we’d had. Were there red flags I’d ignored? Kenji was my childhood friend, and my best friend back then, and with people like him, you cut them a lot of slack, right? I’d brushed off behavior that would’ve set off alarms with anyone else. But now, sitting on the edge of my bed, I felt shaken.
Surviving the challenges had always been my focus. But now that the group had been whittled down to five, the dynamics had shifted. We were becoming more dangerous than the challenges themselves. Was it Chef Sakamoto’s intention all along to pit us against one another and reveal our true colors? If so, it was equal parts brilliant and psychotic.
No one was the same person they’d been on day one, including me.
The program had torn me apart and magnified every flaw. My upbringing had already left me with abandonment issues and a deep distrust of people. I’d grown up cautious and distant, with walls so high only a few ever broke through. Reuniting with Kenji was proof I hadn’t lost everyone important to me. But now, I wasn’t so sure about him. Too many years had passed. We weren’t the same anymore.
The same was true for Jiro. He’d broken through my wall once, only to leave me rebuilding it when our relationship fell apart. But the Jiro I saw now didn’t resemble the Jiro from the past. He, too, had changed.
And I’d changed. I was even less trusting and more cynical. I felt myself retreating into a hole, wanting to shut everyone out.
I should’ve seen Kenji’s transformation coming. Thinking back, it was obvious. What I’d once considered sweet had morphed into something obsessive.
And Jiro’s sudden declaration that he wanted to be friends again? What the hell was that about? He’d thrown a massive wrench into everything. They both had.
Now, it felt like it was me against the rest. Was I overreacting about Kenji? No. I didn’t think so.
